


Lost Memories

by VirgoVaserra



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst?, Laurent loses his memory, M/M, mentions of rape/abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-06-05 16:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15174704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VirgoVaserra/pseuds/VirgoVaserra
Summary: Laurent, the Prince of Vere, is fourteen right? He, unwillingly, visits his Uncle in secret ever since his beloved older brother Auguste was killed at the hands of Damianos, the prince-killer, murdered him in cold blood. But when he one day wakes up beside his brother's killer apparently eight years older, his world turns upside down.Why would he sleep with Damianos? How will the Prince, now King, get his memories back? And does he want them?AKA Laurent POV of him losing his memories :)Pls don't kill me!





	1. Lying in Bed with a Prince-Killer

**Author's Note:**

> See end for notes and enjoy!

Laurent’s eyes snapped open as he willed himself not to move. His thoughts whirling, I thought Uncle didn’t call me tonight. Nonetheless, the youngest and only Prince of Vere felt the heavy breathing of another man against his neck and an arm draped over his stomach, holding him unconsciously tight. Maybe he drugged me and I just don’t remember? That seemed like the only logical solution, despite the fact his stomach clenched at the prospect of Uncle’s hands on his body, without his knowledge. 

Suddenly, Laurent realized with surprise that the room was all wrong. Though the color was hard to make out, the sheets were certainly not red. The smell was also wrong. Not his Uncle’s musky, alcohol scent but something else. Someone else. That thought alone had Laurent tensing up, his limbs shaking in fear. Who? Who would Uncle have fuck him? No wonder he couldn’t remember. Uncle had probably drugged him so he’d have no memory, not to mention he probably thought Laurent would sleep in. His Uncle rarely knew that Laurent would lay awake for hours, his Uncle asleep beside him, on a morning like this. The young Prince felt the panic rise up in his throat, his fingers clenching the sheets, as he willed his breath to remain calm. 

Once his breathing had some semblance of normalcy, he carefully reached towards the arm, eyes locked with the wall, body still as glass. He gently, with barely there-fingers, went to grab the intruders wrist, expecting to find skin, his fingertips instead touched metal. All rational thoughts flew from Laurent’s head as he looked down, suddenly. A cuff. A slave cuff was around the man’s wrist. Then with growing horror, Laurent looked at his own wrist and found the cuff’s twin, pure gold surrounding his pale skin. Hysteria threatened to overwhelm Laurent and he flinched away from the man, desperately wanting to put distance between them. That movement was his undoing as the man’s breathing faltered and his body tensed. The man was awake. 

A gruff thinly accented voice, still rough with sleep, questioned, “Laurent?” 

The young Prince tensed up, alerted by the way he said his name: like he owned him like he was just allowed to--like he was given permission. Suddenly, Laurent realized why he knew the accent. A weight dropped in his stomach. Fear filling his every thought. The accent was Akielos. 

That thought alone had Laurent cursing his self-preservation and flinging himself off the bed, needed distance. Distance from Them. The people who had murdered his Auguste and he had--he--he--had fucked--them! Rolling onto the carpeted floor with a crash, the young Prince fumbled backward till his back hit the wall. By now the Akielon was sitting up, rubbing his eyes and staring in confusion. 

“Laurent? Laurent, darling, what’s wrong?”

“G-gua-rds! Guards!!!” 

Light floods the room as the guards burst through the door searching for any sign of danger and then turned towards Laurent in confusion. 

“What is it, Your Highness? Are you hurt?” the guard asked, and some part of Laurent recognized him. The dark hair and brown eyes. 

He put that thought aside and realized with growing horror that the guard standing next to the familiar one was also Akielon. His panic began to rise, as his face grew bone-white and his breathing started to come out in pants. 

“Jord, get the lights, please. Pallas, grab Paschal. Laurent, are you feeling alright? What’s wrong?”

Jord. He knew that name. Jord was one of his possible candidates for the Prince’s Guard. And Pallas must be the Akielon guard but-- 

Paschal! A small bit of relief floods his senses, Paschal will know what to do and will explain why Akielons are walking around like they own the place. He’d always gone to Paschal when Uncle was too rough… 

Turning his attention, back to the nameless Akielon, the Prince swallowed his fear and demanded, “Where is my Uncle?” 

Laurent knew he was trading one evil for another but at least Uncle was better than the people who had murdered his brother. 

The young Prince suddenly realized the effect his question had had on Jord and the Akielon. Jord’s mouth was slightly agape and his eyes were wide with horror. While the Akielon was ramrod still, anger rolling off his body in waves. Who exactly had Uncle pissed off? 

“Laurent--”

“Your Highness,” the Prince corrected, as the Akielon shared a worried glance with Jord.

“... Your Highness, I--uhum--Do you know--”

At that moment, Paschal burst into the room, hair still slightly disheveled with sleep and Pallas a step behind him. The palace physician looked strikingly older, to Laurent growing confusion. 

“Pallas informed me that His Highness is unwell. Your Majesty, can I come closer?” 

Laurent gave Paschal the barest nods, as the physician gave a gentle smile and moved into a crouched position in front of the young Prince.

“Paschal, I don’t know what happened. He was fine last night and you said he was in perfect health. But then today he practically shoved me away, I mean, sometimes this will happen because of… you know,” Paschal nodded in understanding and the Akielon went on, “but he’s acting like he doesn’t know me and… and he asked for his Uncle.” 

The Akielon practically spat the last word, like he was tasting something awful. Who would dare disrespect the Regent in his own court, in front of his own guards?? Laurent had managed to calm his breathing but tension still lined his every muscle. 

After thinking for a moment, Paschal nodded and said to Laurent with a touch of concern, “Your Highness, how old are you?”

Despite everything going on the question nearly made Laurent laugh. How old was he? Honestly, what kind of question was that?

“I just turned fourteen, obviously. Why on earth do you ask?”

Everyone in the room froze, and with a single motion from the still nameless Akielon, Pallas and Jord walked out. Why was everyone so surprised? It wasn’t uncommon knowledge that his birthday had been a few weeks ago. 

Paschal voice took on a softer, gentler note as he murmured, “Your--Laurent, this may be hard to understand but you are twenty-two. I believe yesterday you were out riding and hit your head causing amnesia.”

“Amnesia?” both Laurent and the Akielon demanded in unison. 

"Yes, I do believe the Ki--erum the Prince has no idea what's going on or who you are... Exalted." 

Exalted. Suddenly, Laurent realized how he knew the man. And reality came crashing down around him, as the young Prince realized who exactly had been in his bed. His body. Waves of nausea coursed through him. The same man who had brought Laurent's world down around him. The current heir of Akielon.

"Damianos."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was hurt over making Laurent upset!? The thought alone was hysterical and despite everything, a dry chuckle escaped the youngest prince, though it may have been due to shock.
> 
> “Hah-ha-ha…”
> 
> “Your Highness, what’s the matter?” Paschal asked, his face lined with worry.

Suddenly Laurent’s whole seemed to grow numb and silent. He knew people were talking to him and he knew he should probably be listening but he couldn’t bring himself to hear them. Damianos looked like he’d been slapped when the young prince had said his name. What? Did he honestly think Laurent wouldn’t recognize him of all people!? Laurent knew he should be asking why Damianos had been in his room or why Paschal called him Exalted or where his uncle was or why fucking Akielon were in his kingdom!!! 

“--well?” Damianos ended his rant with a shout that--as hard as he tried not to--made Laurent flinch slightly. 

Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed, Laurent had been practicing, but somehow the Akielon bastard did. A flash of anguish past over his face. He was hurt over making Laurent upset!? The thought alone was hysterical and despite everything, a dry chuckle escaped the youngest prince, though it may have been due to shock.

“Hah-ha-ha…”

“Your Highness, what’s the matter?” Paschal asked, his face lined with worry.

“Wa-what’s the matter! Hah-ha, Paschal, the man who murdered my brother--my world--is lying in my bed while his brethren are traipsing around as if they own the place! What. Do. You. Think. Is. The. Matter!” 

Laurent was panting by the end of his explosion of emotion, his breath coming out in great shuddering gasps as he wondered whether or not he was having a panic attack. NO! Not in front of him! Please, god, no! Try as he might, it felt like no air was entering his body. 

His legs suddenly gave out and he collapsed to the ground, throwing an arm out to try and prevent his fall--thought he had no memory of falling. No memory of anything. No memory of the past eight years of his life. He had no get out, now. The room was closing in on him, he would suffocate in here with Damianos. 

“--urent! Laurent!” 

Laurent realized, with a touch of humor, that the Prince-Killer was calling his name. He finally managed to turn his gaze to the Akielon, though his breath still came out in shuddering gasps and he was pretty sure the room would crush them both in a matter of seconds. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if the room did crush them. At least, that way, he would have avenged Auguste. 

“Don’t--don’t you--come n-n-near me! You--you Prince-Killing basta--ah… ah…” 

Laurent’s body felt like he was drowning, the air felt too thin as he had to gasp with each breath and his vision turned blurry. Hazy human-shaped blurs started to move towards him as the room began to spin. Laurent felt sick. He felt scared. No. Terrified. The Prince of Vere, the cast-iron bitch, was terrified of the Akielon who was stretching out a hand, trying to comfort Laurent for reasons he couldn’t understand. 

As a hand suddenly touched his shoulder, his instincts took over as he slapped the hand away and ran. Ran past Paschal and Damianos, ran out of the room, ran for so look his legs started to burn and his chest ached. But, finally, Laurent stopped. Though his breath still came out in gasps at least his vision had cleared and he was no longer shaking. The Prince could hear his heart beating in his head, as he looked around. Tall trees lined the surrounding as far as the eye could see, he was in a forest. He was lost in a forest. Laurent realized that in his terror he had no idea which direction he had ran. 

“Damn it,” Laurent’s voice was loud in the empty forest. “Ok think rationally. If you’re… twenty-two, then you must have been here before, right?” 

Some part of him knew he was right. Rationally, he would have ridden at least once in all the surrounding areas. So, the Prince of Vere had two options: one, stay here until the amnesia fades away or two, walk in the least forested direction and hope to find some civilization. Deciding on the latter Laurent took one calming breath and started forward. At first he tried to think of something--anything other than the past few hours. But, the only things that came to mind led back to Damianos: Auguste who was killed by him, his uncle who he had assumed he was with, his court that he now ruled… with Damianos? 

As he admired the foliage, Laurent began to put things together. He was twenty-two, he uncle was presumably in prison and not someone liked based on the Prince-Killer’s reaction, and he would be King. Even as a young boy, Laurent never wanted to marry or have children so he doubted there was a wife he didn’t know about but that still brought the question of why Damianos was in his bed? The most logical and most horrifying reason was that they were married or at the very least lovers. He stumbled over a rock as his stomach clenched at the thought. 

Everything about that man he hated--hated almost as much as his Uncle. He had sworn to kill him so why on earth was he still alive!?!

“Darling, don’t run out into the forest.”

“B-b-but Mommy! I wanna climb a twee!” 

A small child and young woman’s voice made him stop. Looking around he had to be in the middle of the forest so who was living here? Cautiously he hid behind a tree, peeking around for the source of the voices.

“We can climb a tree later, Demetios,” the woman responded, her voice though cool and crisp was loving. 

A few feet away from the tree he was hiding behind, was a young woman and small boy. The woman’s blonde hair was cut to her shoulders--the color near identical to his own--and her eyes were ice blue like his own. While the small boy’s curly hair was dirty blonde, his skin was a shade lighter then Damianos’. Who were these people? 

Suddenly, the boy--Demetios turned and his brown eyes glued on Laurent. “Mommy?” He pointed straight at the Prince.

The woman spun, dagger in hand, as she stared at Laurent. Her eyes grew suspicious as she relaxed the offensive position. The woman knew him? “Prince.” An incline of her head. “I wasn’t aware you were coming today.” 

With a casual gesture, she beckoned her son to her side. She looked familiar, Laurent realized. The blonde hair and cold eyes. It was like a mirror with more breasts. 

“Jokaste.” The name left his lips before he registered it but… yes, that was her name. 

“I thought we agreed, to have no contact lest Damianos finds out.” 

At the name, the Prince flinched slightly and Jokaste took note. Suddenly her hard eyes grew less angry and more… concerned? 

“Are you ill? You seemed less cast-iron bitch and more scared bunny. Not to mention--”

“I think he went this way!” a gruff Akelion’s voice interrupted Jokaste. 

They were surely searching from him, that much was certain, and they’d find him unless he had somewhere to hide. Without knowledge of the area, the guards would find Laurent and take him back to the castle. Take him back to the Prince-Killer. 

At Jokaste’s quizzical look, Laurent blurted, “Please.”

Whatever she thought he’d say that wasn’t it. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth was ajar. Laurent had no clue of their history and for all, he knew she’d alert the guards and he’d be screwed. Distrust swam in her ice-blue eyes, but she nodded nonetheless. Without a wrong she turned on her heel, grabbing the young boy in her arms, and walked off into the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... please don't hurt me for the fact this is dramatically late! I will make sure to get on this and if I don't feel free to give me crazy, smutty, or weird one-shot prompts and I will make myself write them whatever the prompt. 
> 
> If the next chapter is not up within the next few days I will start writing one-shots till I publish the chapter. Please review, comment, and follow!

**Author's Note:**

> I know some of you may hate me for one reason or another but...  
> I hope you liked it! This might be a one-shot but if people like it I'll write a second chapter. It was really hard to write Laurent, truth be told.  
> Anyway, please comment and leave kudos!!!


End file.
